Myths like Love and Magic
by isettophonfire
Summary: Molly ponders her life.


A/N: Hey, school started today and you know what that means! MORE UPDATES! Seriously though guys, I'm sorry I don't update more. Here's another Molly and Schmendrick story as a peace offering. Plus, it's right in time to celebrate M. Beagle getting the rights back to the movie. So enjoy.

The Last Unicorn © (finally) Peter S. Beagle

I often find myself wondering if anything was worth it. Looking back on this existence I built with a man I hardly even knew, was it worth it? And then I look over at him, asleep in his chair. He's probably uncomfortable, that twit. I tell him time and time again to go to bed and he never listens. I grumble as I lift myself out of my own chair to wake him up.

"Schmendrick. Wake up. You're not spending all night in this chair."

He murmurs something about butterflies but he lifts himself out of the chair. I can tell he's still half-asleep as he scratches at his head and yawns. Somehow, he blindly makes his way into our bedroom. He makes me feel exhausted and old by just looking at him.

I laugh as I lean against the mantle; I was thirty-six this year. Oh how time flies like a dove. Twenty years I wasted with Cully. When a girl is sixteen she believes in myths such as love and romance and Robin Hood. However, when she is thirty-six she knows that life has no room for myths.

"_But that's not true,"_ the nagging voice in my head protested, _"There are unicorns, and heroes, and magic. These so-called myths exist in our world. If they can, why can't love? After all hasn't that magician shown you that?"_

I shook my head, trying to dispel thoughts that I knew would lead to trouble. Of course, we had spent many a night together. But twenty years with Cully showed me that passionate nights are not the same as love. Love cannot exist for me. It's a fleeting feeling for those young enough to believe in it. I was overcome by a cold draft and a melancholy that made me yearn for my warm bed and the lanky man in it. Being stubborn as a mule, I was not going to give in to what I wanted. So I grabbed the blanket Schmendrick had been previously wrapped up in and threw it around myself.

But of course it had to smell like him; sweet, but also bitter and powerful, surprisingly masculine and very comforting. I groaned, still reluctant to go to bed. I put myself to work to take my mind of the cold and the smell.

The stew pot needed to be covered and Schmendrick's books needed to be put away. Oh and his shirt needed to be mended, but I would do that tomorrow when there was more light.

"_Look at yourself Molly, you're like a good little housewife." _

I dropped the books and the shirt. I most certainly did not. First of all I wasn't even married to the magician. Secondly, if I didn't clean up around here Schmendrick wouldn't even be able to find his own overgrown feet.

"_Oh just admit it old girl. You've grown soft for him."_

I would not listen to myself any longer. I picked up Schmendrick's shirt and grabbed my sewing basket. If I stoked the fire a bit, there would be plenty of light. As I sat I noticed something small and round fall out of the pocket, it glittered in the firelight. I knew instantly what it was.

I picked the ring up and turned ironer in my hand. Could I really be happy with this life? It wouldn't be much different than it was, I would only bear his ring and his name; two things Cully never gave me. But what if that's not all Schmendrick expected me to bear? I don't think I could bear children at my age. I almost did for Cully, but in the unfortunate way the world works he was born still. He would have been nineteen by now. Tears began to fill my eyes, I brushed them away quickly. So maybe I couldn't bear children, but I wanted one to replace the one stolen from me.

It could be nice. Schmendrick would be a good father. I could be a good little housewife if I wanted. I kissed the ring and placed it gently back in the pocket.

"_Well, we'll see."_

I crept into the bedroom and climbed into bed, reveling in the soft warmth. Schmendrick, snoring loudly, threw his arm around me, trapping me under him. I just smile and curl up closer, thinking about the magician, the man, who taught to me that love may not be just a myth.


End file.
